


Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

by automaticheartache



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, KaraLena, Luthors, Medusa - Freeform, SuperCorp, but with more kissing, kara x lena - Freeform, lena x kara - Freeform, or the same amount of kissing, probably, superluthor - Freeform, that scene that should have happened but didn't, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9927779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/automaticheartache/pseuds/automaticheartache
Summary: The Medusa virus has been disabled, Lillian Luthor is on trial, and Kara and Lena haven't spoken since that terrible night. As fate would have it, they find themselves thrown together, attending a fundraiser at Club Apocalypse, and take the opportunity to push past the awkwardness straight into each other's arms. Takes place between Medusa and Luthors. One-shot (with the possibility for a follow-up).





	

Kara’s ears were ringing with the overwhelming buzz of chatter in the crowded club. She made her way through the teeming crowd of twenty-somethings, swearing she could see the walls breathe and sweat with the tack of so many bodies in such a small space. She slipped through the wide double doors to the cool of the patio. She knew the fundraiser that evening was for a good cause, but she still somewhat resented having to fight through the press of bodies just to get a simple breath of air. She crossed the length of the patio, relishing the crisp cut of the cool night air against her flushed cheeks.

The patio mirrored the club’s interior, all clean, dark lines in cement and glass. Kara longed for the warm tones and soft surfaces of her apartment as she settled, rather precariously, on the edge of an unnecessarily hard cement bench. She shifted, trying to angle herself toward the large flagstone and glass fireplace, flaring softly in the night. The outdoor landing was as empty as the indoors were crowded and Kara took the opportunity to luxuriate in her newfound solitude. Her eyes wandered from the nearby bar, where a lone bartender was toweling down the polished granite counter, to a single couple talking low, forehead-to-forehead. Her mind quieted and she swirled the club soda in her hand, delighting in the soft clink of ice against glass.

“Kara?”

The lilting voice drew her from her quiet reverie and Kara subconsciously pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Lena, hi!” She set her drink down and rose to greet her friend. They stepped toward one another, not quite certain what the greeting called for and settled on a flustered, professional handshake. Kara smiled awkwardly and straightened the cuff of her black silk bolero jacket, before gesturing toward the CEO, “You – you look amazing.”

And she did, Lena cut an impressive figure in a sleeveless black dress with a high mandarin collar that opened into a plunging neckline and delicately cinched waist that snaked down to a tight-clinging pencil skirt. It bordered on indecent and Kara was careful not to let her gaze linger more than what was strictly proper. Lena’s hair was swept up in a high and tight pompadour with a complicated mess of curls at the back and her makeup was dark and smoky – dramatic against her pale complexion. 

“Thanks, you look great too.” Lena dropped her eyes and fiddled with the clasp of her black silk clutch. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not since,” Kara paused, “Not since –”

“Medusa. The article was beautiful, by the way, thank you.” The dark-haired woman reached out a tentative hand and touched Kara lightly on the forearm.

Kara had still been reeling from her terse conversation with the CEO the night of the virus when she submitted her story on Medusa to Snapper the following morning, touting Lena as the heroine of National City.

She had struggled over her conflicted feelings all night. Supergirl had been thoroughly dismissed by a woman in whom she had placed complete faith, only to have that faith proven well founded. But Lena’s words, though biting, continued to echo through her mind. Had Lena truly committed to her mother’s cause, Kara would have had no other choice but to “come after” her, so to speak. The thought made Kara squirm, but she still found herself believing in the Luthor heiress – her ability to create positive change, her brilliant mind, her bravery and passion. And beyond that there was more: stronger feelings she hadn’t yet been brave enough to name and those scared her most of all. Kara had allowed this vortex of complicated emotions to cause a rift between them she, ultimately, didn’t know how to bridge. So, instead of confronting the challenge, she had retreated, entirely uncharacteristic, she knew. 

“You deserved so much more credit for what you did that night, it was the least I could do.” Kara swallowed, nerves creeping up to curl around her chest.

“Well, it was much appreciated and it’s gone a long way to changing public perception of my company.” Lena caught the attention of the bartender and ordered a glass of some sort of wine with a name Kara didn’t recognize. “I’ve been following your pieces on the trial as well. You’re becoming quite the consummate reporter, Miss Danvers. And I must say, your ability to remain objective has improved considerably.”

“How are you doing,” Kara faltered a bit, “with all of that? The trial must be hard on you.”

“You might think so, but honestly, I see my mother as much now as I did before she was arrested. Before _I had her_ arrested.” Lena corrected herself and picked up the glass of wine, swirling it aimlessly in the glass before taking a delicate sip. “So it’s not that different, really. Plus, she made her choices long ago and I made mine. We were never meant to walk the same path.” She straightened up at this and cut her eyes subtly toward Kara, speaking with pointed precision, “The hardest part is answering tireless questions from the press about our supposed closeness and familial ties, it’s so dreary having to constantly correct the misconception that we were in anyway congenial.”

“You’re being awfully cavalier about the whole thing.”

“I might be less so if there were actually something to say about our so-called relationship.” She took another sip, this one considerably larger than the last, “Or if I had been asked by the one member of the press I actually wanted to talk to.” 

“I’m sorry, Lena, I –”

The CEO settled into her right hip, “You just disappeared.”

“I know, I –,” Kara’s excuse died on her tongue when she looked up to find tears threatening Lena’s brilliant green eyes. “I’m just, I’m sorry.” 

“I am too,” Lena shook her head slightly, blinking back the saline with a forced smile, “I was really enjoying the time we spent together.” 

“I was too, Lena, believe me. I just didn’t know what to do, how to talk to you.” Kara offered sheepishly. “After. Supergirl told me everything that was said between the two of you and I guess – I don’t know – I guess I just wanted to give you some space.”

Lena drained the wine glass with surprising grace and turned back to the reporter, “Kara, even if I had needed some space, I never needed it from _you_.” She left the glass at the edge of the bar and motioned for Kara to join her nearer to the fire, warm behind its thick glass, “Supergirl and I will always have a complicated relationship; there may be too much family history for us to ever truly be at ease with one another, but – please – I hope you won’t let that stand in the way of _our_ friendship.”

Kara sighed at this, she couldn’t deny the complications in Lena’s request, but her concerns grew suddenly quiet as Lena placed a kind hand over her own. Her mind clouded over at the pleasant contact and they sat in apprehensive silence before the CEO broke the spell, pleading softly.

“Please, Kara. You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you.”

Kara let her eyebrows fall into a loose knit and murmured her own confession, “I missed you too. More than I thought I would,” she caught herself, “Sorry, that sounded better in my head.” Lena smiled and she continued, emboldened slightly, “I think I must have picked up the phone to call you about hundred times a day.”

“I wish you had. I miss talking with you – the way you make me feel – like I can do anything.” Lena lowered her gaze, suddenly shy. “But it’s more than that too. I’d gotten so used to you dropping by, sometimes I’d find myself staring at my doors, willing you to walk through them.” 

Kara didn’t know what to say to this. There was a pleading quality in Lena’s voice that betrayed a desperation the blonde had never really considered. She had assumed that Lena would adopt her usual role as the self-reliant, independent woman the Luthor heiress presented to the world, she hadn’t realized the vulnerability – the softness Kara so admired in the other woman – might harden and crack in her absence. It was something she so often forgot: shining a light on the sensitive parts of one’s soul also left them exposed and raw. 

“I kept wondering if I had done something wrong, said something, that might have kept you away.” Lena’s eyes were glistening again, “I gave it a few days, then days turned into weeks and I just – I didn’t know what to do.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” In one subtle motion, Kara caught Lena’s hand and laced their fingers together, noting the way the other woman’s face brightened at the contact. “I should have come to see you, I mean, I wanted to. I never stopped caring.”

“I know, I read all of your articles; they gave me hope. You never stopped fighting for me, even when you weren’t speaking to me.” Lena’s words spilled through smiling lips. 

“And I never will, Lena.” Kara’s blue-eyed gaze dropped, shy in her vow of devotion.

“I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” Had Kara raised her eyes, she may have seen the rosy blush bloom in pale cheeks, but instead, blue eyes traced the curve and bend of their joined hands. “Not many would support a Luthor so unconditionally.”

“You’re more than your family name, Lena. You are incredible,” Kara absent-mindedly traced a pattern on the back of the woman’s captive hand, “And I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that, even for a second.”

“Well, we’re here now.” The emerald-eyed woman eased slightly closer; there was a barely discernable shift in her tone, “And it’s a beautiful night.” Lena’s words took on a honeyed quality, thick with wine and warmth. “And as I said, I’ve missed you.”

Kara swallowed audibly, her throat having gone suddenly dry. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at the lithe fingers of the hand interwoven with her own, the weight of it felt so familiar. So right. A light touch along her jaw brought her attention back to the woman next to her and without thinking she leaned into the touch. Lena looked up at her from under kohl dark lashes, her gaze steeped in a sort of starved longing and something else too, something almost feral.

The blonde let her eyes flutter closed as the fingers along her jaw slipped back into the curls framing her face and she sighed in spite of herself. She felt unexpectedly lightheaded – floaty – though she hadn’t had anything to drink, not that it would matter if she had. She marveled at the feel of Lena’s fingers threading through her hair and allowed herself to be drawn closer to the woman, suddenly so enticing.

Kara wanted this, this thing happening, so sudden; this shift in who they were to one another. She had wanted this – hadn’t allowed herself to want this – since the first day they met in Lena’s office.

They were a breath apart now and Kara slowly began to recognize the mysterious quality hiding in the depths of Lena’s icy green eyes: hunger, base and primal. She paused for a moment and considered her next action carefully, resting her forehead lightly against the other woman’s. Kara was dizzy, drowning in the intoxicating sensation of Lena’s touch along the nape of her neck, fingers tracing the line of her jaw, the cold night air stinging every part of her not pressed against the dark haired woman. It was almost more than she could bear. Almost.

“Kara,” Lena’s lips moved, so close to her own and she hummed in acknowledgement, “Please.”

That was all she needed to hear. She allowed one hand to rise of its own accord, fingers grazing the meticulously pinned hair at Lena’s temple while the other snaked around the woman’s waist and pulled her impossibly close. Kara drew in a shaky breath and tentatively met Lena’s lips with her own. The sensation was impossible to describe, but her brain tirelessly attempted to do so, cycling through a litany of words like “indulgent” and “astonishing” before it short-circuited completely. Kara nipped at Lena’s lower lip, drawing it between her teeth and heard a light, obviously pleased gasp escape the other woman. She felt the vibration of a moan as she deepened the kiss, parting her lips to taste the sweet sting of wine on her curious tongue. 

From somewhere within the ether of their heady lust, Kara became slowly aware of a deliberate tugging sensation on her hair. Then a series of small fires started to burn where Lena’s fingers traced the raised filigree pattern in the silk trousers over her hip. The Kryptonian had chosen a more masculine, classic look for the evening, consisting of a pair of tight black damask trousers, a white crepe blouse with light pin tucks at the chest, a bolero jacket, in the same black filigreed silk, and heels, blood red and high. She was grateful for her decision as she felt Lena’s hand wander to the small of her back, unsettle her shirt and graze her bare skin, igniting within her a blaze of wanton heat. The sensation of it sent a shock up Kara’s spine and for a brief moment all motion stilled as the dark haired woman pulled back slightly.

“Are you,” Lena paused, flushed, “Is this alright?”

“Oh Rao, yes.” escaped Kara’s lips as an exasperated sigh.

Lena looked vaguely puzzled at the reference, but any potential questions fell away as the blonde surged forward capturing her lips once more in a desperate attempt to eliminate any distance between them. Hands roamed wildly over the silky fabric of Lena’s dress as Kara traced up her spine and across her shoulder blades. She couldn’t believe her own desire, but more than that, she marveled at whatever good fortune brought her to this exact moment, tangling recklessly with the object of so much longing and errant desire.

She had been so terrible at concealing her delight each time she was in Lena’s presence, laughing off compliments, and blushing a deep crimson each time Lena fixed Kara with one of her strangely significant gazes. Kara had lost count of how many times she’d woken with a start in the dead of night, worked up to the point of overheating; the only echo of the fading dream the ravenous gaze of emerald green eyes, the ghost of lithe, ringed fingers on her skin. To be faced with the subject of her waking desires, to be wrapped around her, making out like love-starved teenagers, was far and away the best gift she’d ever been given. 

Those same emerald eyes grew dusky as Lena pulled her lips away from their all-consuming kiss, only to drag them along the hollow of Kara’s throat. The blonde hissed in a sharp breath as she felt the nip of teeth and tongue against her neck and almost wished she could bruise as the taut, wet pull against her skin increased.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” she let sound escape around a ragged gasp, “but maybe we could, I don’t know, find somewhere...” Kara lost grasp on language as Lena started trailing lips after fingers delicately unbuttoning the first, then second, button of her light blouse then she sobered abruptly as the smoldering Luthor heiress withdrew all contact and treated her to a look that positively dripped with desire.

“I believe the words your looking for are ‘do you want to get out of here?’”

Kara nodded almost imperceptibly and allowed herself to be led, silently, seductively back inside, through the crush of bodies dancing and drinking. She barely noticed the thumping rhythm of the club, the cacophony of chatter buzzing around her. She was in a hollow echo chamber that stretched ahead to encapsulate the woman drawing her by the hand. She let her gaze drift down slightly and appreciated the tight fit of Lena’s perfect pencil skirt – all the places it curved and complimented her amazing body.

“I saw that, Miss Danvers.” And Kara blushed, not realizing Lena had turned and caught her blatant appraisal.

“Good.” Kara’s tone was surprisingly confident; she tugged on the hand in hers and Lena swung back into the waiting circle of her arms. Soft lips trailed along Lena’s sharp, patrician jawline and paused at the hollow just below her ear to purr, “Take me home. Now." 

Lena’s eyebrow shot up and the corner of her mouth quirked up to follow it. “Yes ma’am.”

They made their way to the entrance of Club Apocalypse as a sleek black town car pulled up to the curb. Kara shivered as the chill night air kissed her exposed décolletage, her collar now hanging roguishly open where Lena had carefully split it. The driver emerged and pulled open the door for them. Lena sank gracefully into the dimly lit interior of the car and held out her hand, an invitation, a promise. Kara took the offered hand without hesitation and allowed herself to be drawn in. She was ready for whatever came next and would go happily.

**Author's Note:**

> At present, this is a one-shot, but it may be more if I decide to expand it down the line. Thanks for reading and for any feedback you might have!


End file.
